Baileys and Bikes
by Anelese2012
Summary: Daryl meets the love of his life in a small fishing village, no one has ever been more appealing. Old Greg and Daryl are in for the ride of their lives, fighting off walkers and kissing under the stars. No one knows what will happen next! This fic is a Walking Dead/Old Greg Crossover don't kill me.


"Baileys and Bikes"

Hello readers and welcome to the disturbing yet endearing world of my fic. This fic is a crossover fic between the Old Greg sketch from The Mighty Boosh and Walking Dead. It creates the newest ship OldDaryl. I do not own either although I greatly wish I did as I would be rich. Please have patience as this fic was created purely for our amusement via a mobile device. This is co-wrote by Theycallmebasil. Enjoy and review XD.

Chapter One:

Daryl reached up into the glistening seaweed above him and felt the slippery wetness of Old Greg's cheek. Looking in to his eyes he pulled Greg in for a kiss, the taste of bailey's and stale pretzels overwhelming his senses. Old Greg pulled himself away to view the man below him. Daryl was panting from the effort in which it took to calm himself, red lipstick was smeared across his face and the beginnings of a healthy beard were framed by shaggy and muddy hair.

"What do you think of me "Old Greg Said nervously

"I think yuh could handle a walker or two" Daryl said his strong southern drawl making itself known.

"I'll deal with them the way I dealt with Curley Jefferson," Old Gregg agreed, prying his eyes from his paramour to gaze fondly at the totally realistic corpse on the cave wall above them.

Daryl glanced up at Gregg's handy work and immediately became aroused. It would seem he wasn't the only manpeach with strong arms. "What do you say we get out of here," he suggested, eager to get back to the battlefield where everything was simple. Old Gregg nodded and turned back to his lover. "Do you love me," he asked and immediately regretted it. He wasn't sure he could handle the answer this gruff man would give. Daryl was silent for a long moment before he met Gregg's gaze with a heated one of his own. "I could learn to love you," he admitted. "Then come to Papa Moon," Old Greg said, a crazy grin spreading quickly over his face. Daryl nodded and gave Old Greg one last hug before righting himself and standing, slipping in a puddle of spilled baileys. He quickly adjusted himself, avoiding the fall and brushing it off as if nothing had ever happened.

"Righ, les get goin, we hafta fin shelter before nightful, the biters will be out in droves". Daryl said

Old Greg and Daryl relished in each other's company as they ascended to the surface. Outside the sun was beginning to set, leaving a beautiful array of colors in the sky. Daryl's bike stood along the side of an old barn the chrome reflecting a perfect image of the pair, Daryl's bulging muscles wrapped firmly around Old Greg's waist.

Daryl quickly mounted the bike in a way second nature to only him. Old Greg was in awe of Daryl's brisk movements. Grasping firmly onto Daryl's bicep, Old Greg lifted himself onto the back of Daryl's bike, His pink tutu settling against the curve of Daryl ass. Old Greg wrapped his arms around Daryl midsection leaning in and catching the familiar sent of dirt and decay that comforted him on those long nights underground. The bike took off from the small fishing village, Greg's seaweed locks flapping in the breeze behind him and catching the rays of the setting sun. Daryl thought to himself that the man behind him make him feel something he'd always stopped himself from embracing, the funk. With Old Greg around things were about to get very interesting, Daryl thought pensively.

A few hours later the bike pulled up to an abandoned lodge .The only sounds that could be heard were from the surrounding woods and one mangled and bloody wind chime that dangled precariously by a thread.

Despite Daryl's experience out in the real world, Gregg possessed the funk and was therefore badass. He opened the door slowly, wielding a broken bottle of his signature beverage for protection. The undead loved the taste of flesh, but none could resist the creamy beige of Bailey's. The door creaked under the strain, but gave way to reveal what had once been a cozy establishment. The furniture was turned over and there were several telltale red stains, but no geeks in sight.

Daryl slipped inside, crossbow at the ready and took to the stairs. The second floor was full of guestrooms, but all of the doors were locked. He could hear scratching coming from somewhere in the house, but couldn't pinpoint exactly which room. Not wanting to risk shouting, the country man walked back downstairs to find the keys to the rooms. Nothing could prepare him for what his eyes perceived.

Old Gregg had moved all of the furniture to the walls and lit the fireplace. His seaweed glistened as it fell around his sculpted face. He was grinning coyly at the younger man, revealing the elegant red lipstick stains on his teeth. The most sensual part: he was only wearing his tutu.

Daryl gazed at the man before him, amazed at how one person could radiate so much beauty and empowerment. Daryl placed his crossbow against the wall and kneeled down before old Greg. He grabbed Old Greg clothes and draped them over his torso. The smile on Greg face quickly faded to be replaced with immense disappointment and rejection.

"We can't do this", Daryl said, his teeth gritting from the effort it took to say those words.

Old Greg looked up at his lover with tears streaming down his face..." You don't want me, "he said in defeat.

Daryl took Old Greg's slippery hand in his and feeling the clammy skin felt his heart being to race. "Trust me, I do, I've never wanted anyone more than I do right now," Daryl said.

Old Greg started crying and pulled his hand out of Daryl's, choosing instead to wrap both arms around his knees and stare at the ground.

Daryl covered his eyes to protect himself from the flash of light that briefly blinded him from beneath the pink tutu

Old Greg looked back up at Daryl "YOU DONT LIKE ME, You think I'm just a big scaly man fish," old Greg spat scooting backward away from Daryl and slumping against the wall.

Daryl moved quickly to sit beside Old Greg, he wasn't looking at him so Daryl grasped Old Greg by the chin and turned his face towards him. Old Greg relished the feeling of Daryl's rugged hands upon him and could feel his arousal beginning to stir beneath his skirt.

"Listen, I'd love nothing more than ta take ya right here and now but yuh ain't ready. This here has just started and I don't think I can do right by you right now, I want us to be safe, and thisn right here is crawling with walkers, the last thing we need is to be bitten while I'm Makin love to yuh. I tell you what as soon as we are safe I'll do whatever you want", Daryl said smiling at the man before him.

"Can we do water colors and drink some baileys", Old Greg said hopefully

"Of course we can", Daryl said pecking Greg on the lips.

A crashing sounded reverberated off the walls outside the door and the distinctive sound of walkers followed shortly after.


End file.
